


thank you for being a friend

by BookTwo



Category: Grace and Frankie (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 21:37:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13749729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookTwo/pseuds/BookTwo
Summary: If she hears one more person refer to her and Frankie as a couple, she is going to decimate everything that person loves until their death is reenacted on some Sunday night special by that twit Megyn Kelly titled Murder by Martini with two olives and a monogrammed drink stirrer to the neck.





	thank you for being a friend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WeiszArse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeiszArse/gifts).



Today had been eventful to say the least.

First, there was the official birthday brunch with Sol and Robert, where they were only 30 minutes late and Frankie detailed their recent daytrip to what Grace called the 'hippie spa'. It was supposed to be relaxing, but at some point, one of them was peeling bad mud from the other's eyes before hives set in. Even after frozen yogurt, it had ruined the rest of the day.

After brunch, there was a trip to Del Taco not even an hour later upon Frankie's insistence that the non-cage free eggs from brunch did not sit well with the spirit gods. Grace calmly allowed her to order three tacos of whatever toppings she wanted plus guacamole and chips, and proceeded to nibble on Frankie's chips and sparkling water while Frankie regaled her with mindless babble.

And lastly, there was the promised trip to the candle store where Frankie took her time sniffing each scent as though it contained the mystery of the universe. Finally, she picked up the last 'Hatter's Tea Party' 32 oz, held it to Grace's nose, and demanded she took a cleansing whiff of vanilla and mango. As she ushered Frankie to the car with their arms linked for stability, she swore she could hear the bohemian cashier's oohs and ahhs at the sight of them.

Her crutches have been barely gone a week, Nick is in Japan, and whether she likes it or not, Phil's smile still exists at the back of her mind in a very real and grieving way. If she hears one more person refer to her and Frankie as a couple, she is going to decimate everything that person loves until their death is reenacted on some Sunday night special by that twit Megyn Kelly titled Murder by Martini with two olives and a monogrammed drink stirrer to the neck.

Unless of course, it’s one of their children making the comment, in which case, she’ll tell them all to fuck off (mostly Brianna), pour a stiffer drink (Bud and Mallory, sadly), and ponder the merits of calling Coyote’s parole officer. The last one makes her stomach twinge, but remains viable depending on her level of sobriety and his awkward doe-eyes.

Standing behind the kitchen island, Grace smirks at her reticence, and sips her martini.

All four of their children are currently doting on Frankie in the living room with warm smiles and gift bags of outrageous color and texture. Each gift appears more precious to Frankie than the next, with Brianna typically saving hers for last.

"You made her a cake," Brianna says, sliding next to her, holding a similarly clear concoction. It's something they share, despite the fact that Grace learned a long time ago that Brianna preferred Frankie.

"I did," Grace replies, before nodding. She takes another sip of her drink, allowing the vodka to burn slightly and keep her from having to further explain.

"Since when do you bake? Anything. I do mean, anything." Brianna sets her drink down, and leans one hand on her hip, much like she did when she was five and demanded Frankie give her endless piggyback rides up and down the shoreline.

"It’s her birthday."

"But, you had to get your hands dirty and the cake is edible. Beyond edible. Very nearly the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten." Brianna accentuates each word in her usual way, and Grace crosses her arms, preparing her defense.

"Now, that’s just the pot talking."

"Maybe--Or I've been craving real butter and sugar for thirty-plus years and you've been distracting us with bright icing, high fructose corn syrup, and badly drawn 80's cartoon characters." Brianna touches her mother’s shoulder. She exhales, and a small smile appears. "It was awfully nice of you."

As her daughter walks away to rejoin the others, Frankie holds the latest gift from Bud close, and a certain peacefulness settles within Grace.

You don’t survive over thirty years and your ex-husbands marrying one another without sharing a unique bond and perspective on the world. She doesn’t care what people think, and none of these thoughts mean that she doesn’t love Frankie in their own 'please put a Band-Aid on my Oreo-related bruise and I'll make sure to keep my suggestive-themed art away from the sight of your friends' kind of way.

It is what it is.


End file.
